Fear
by Beth Arritt
Summary: John and Sam get involved, but can Sam handle a relationship with Jack on the loose?


Profiler and its characters belong to CS, GG, S/MP, NBC and SK. Most of all, they truly belong to the wonderful cast and crew who bring them to life. I don't own them at all (although whether or not they own me is still up in the air), and I promise not to hurt them and to put them back when I'm done playing without making any money off them at all. Of course, lack of monetary gain from writing means feedback to betha@gwis2.circ.gwu.edu is even more appreciated! 

This one is set a couple years in the future, and John and Sam are involved. So involved, in fact, that he has taken over half her closet at the firehouse. But Jack's still out there... 

------ 

Fear by Beth Arritt Copyright 1998 

"'Signs of violence in children, such as the torture of animals can be an early indication of tomorrow's serial killer.' There's a new thought." I don't know why I read these articles. They rarely have any new evidence. As I contemplate banging my head on the desk at the futility of it all, there is a knock at my door. I look up and see John, and I smile, my frustration forgotten. 

"Hey." I put the article down as he comes over and sits on the edge of my desk. "Working hard?" I nod, slightly dazed by his thumb running lazily over the back of my hand. "On what? This place is practically dead." 

"I'm catching up on my reading." 

He picks up the magazine lying in front of me. "'Patterns in childhood behavior--the tell-tale signs of criminals in the making,'" he quotes, then drops it back onto the desk. "Fun stuff. Any particular reason you're reading it?" 

I know he won't like the answer to that question, so I stare at the article to avoid looking at him. "We know that Jack is someone I knew as a child. I just figured if I concentrated on childhood behavior consistent with similar criminals, maybe something would trigger a memory for me. Something that would make me remember who he is." 

"Sam..." 

"I know. I agreed I should let it go and let someone else handle the case, but I can't. Even if my focus on this case just pushes Jack further, I can't just step aside, not if I can work toward a resolution." 

John sighs. "I know. And I wouldn't have you any other way. Really." I can see him struggling to keep his thoughts to himself as he stares at his hands. "Listen, I'm going up to the cabin to turn the water off now that it's getting colder up there. I usually leave it off in fall and winter unless I'm there so the pipes don't burst if it gets too cold. You wanna come along? The leaves are beautiful this time of year." 

I think for a moment, then shake my head. "I can't. Chloe has that Halloween party at five and I promised to take her." "Oh well." He leans over and gives me a kiss before standing up. "I should be back around 7," he adds, then nods at the magazine. "Don't get too caught up in that stuff, okay?" He waits until I nod before he leaves the office. 

*** 

A couple of hours later I'm surrounded by screaming children on sugar highs wondering how I managed to get roped into actively participating in the party. Then I see my daughter smile at me and I remember. I'm still basking in the warmth of Chloe's smile when my cell phone rings. I pull away from a six-year old with sticky fingers, move to a relatively quiet corner and pull the phone out of my pocket. "Hello?" 

"Sam?" 

"Bailey? We have a terrible connection. What's up?" 

"I think you better get over to Atlanta General Hospital." 

A shiver of fear runs down my back. "What's wrong?" 

"It's John. He's been in an accident." 

"I'll be right there." 

I leave Chloe at the party with two agents, telling her there was an accident without telling her who was involved. The hospital isn't far away, but the drive still seems to take forever. I locate Bailey in the waiting area of the emergency room. "How is he?" 

"They haven't said. As soon as the paramedics saw John's badge they radioed in an ID to the hospital, who called the office. I only got here a few minutes ago." 

"What happened?" 

Bailey shrugs. "Car accident. Apparently he was on the way back from his cabin and lost control of the car. I don't know how bad the wreck was." 

"He drives that car like a pro. How could he lose control?" 

He's saved from having to answer my question by the interruption of a nurse. "Mr. Malone? I was able to find out some information on Mr. Grant." 

"How is he?" 

"He's stable. I heard the paramedics say he was wearing his seat belt, so it's possible he didn't sustain serious injuries." 

I really don't want possibilities at the moment, I want facts. "Can we see him?" 

"Are you a relative, ma'am?" 

"I'm his girlfriend." 

"Oh. Does Mr. Grant have any relatives we should contact?" 

Bailey answers for me. "We're pretty much the only family he has." 

"Can we see him?" I repeat. 

"Not yet. The doctors are still running some tests. I'll have the attending come speak to you as soon as they're done." 

"How long will that be?" I need to see for myself that he is okay. 

"I'm not sure, but probably at least an hour." The nurse hesitates. "Do you have a pager on you?" Both of us nod. "I'm not supposed to do this, but if one of you will give me your pager number, you can go to the cafeteria and I'll beep you as soon as there's news." 

"I'm not going anywhere." I sit down with my arms crossed and practically dare Bailey to take me out of there. 

"The time will pass a lot faster if you go get some coffee, Miss..." 

"Waters. Dr. Waters." I emphasize the doctor, hoping for a psychological advantage. 

"Sorry, Dr. Waters. I promise to beep you the second there's news." 

"Come on, Sam. I bet you haven't even eaten." I reluctantly allow Bailey to pull me out of the chair. He hands the nurse his card. "Thank you, Nurse Collins." 

The nurse smiles. "Don't mention it. My brother is in the FBI. Consider it a sort of professional courtesy." Bailey smiles back, then leads me to the cafeteria. 

An hour later we're still sitting in the cafeteria, our food barely touched. I look at the blank screen on Bailey's pager for the hundredth time. "What's taking so long?" 

"You know how these things go, Sam. Tests take time, hospitals are overworked and understaffed--" 

"Don't try to reason with me right now. It doesn't help." 

"It passes the time," he responds with a slight smile. Before I have a chance to respond, a man approaches us. 

"Agent Malone?" Bailey nods. "Detective Alan Green, Fulton County Sheriff's Department." He indicates an empty chair at the table. "May I sit?" 

"Be my guest." Despite my frustration, I try to smile courteously as Bailey introduces me. "What can we do for you?" 

"We've finished the preliminary report on Agent Grant's car, and we have a few questions." 

"Like what?" Bailey's tone suggests that, like me, he would prefer to deal with this later. 

"For starters, is there anyone who would want to harm Agent Grant?" The detective gains my full attention. Bailey glances at me before asking the detective why he wants to know. 

"The break hoses on his car were punctured." 

"That could have happened naturally though." 

"It's true a hose could get punctured if he ran over something. But each hose leading to a wheel had three evenly spaced holes. It had to be deliberate." 

We exchange another look, then Bailey turns back to the detective. "If someone is out to kill one of my agents, then it becomes our case." 

Detective Green shrugs. "Suits me. God knows I have more than enough cases to deal with as it is. It won't bother me to give one up." 

"Good, then we'll expect your information on the wreck in the morning." 

"You'll have it." 

Bailey's beeper sounds. He checks the screen, then looks up at me. "It's the ER." 

"Let's go." *** 

Nurse Collins is waiting at the desk. "Mr. Malone, Dr. Waters, this is Dr. Akins." 

"Nice to meet you," Bailey says as he shakes the doctor's hand. "What can you tell us about John's condition?" 

"He's in good shape. He was wearing his seat belt, so the only damage was some bruises, cuts from the shattered windshield, and a concussion." 

"Nothing broken?" 

The doctor shakes his head. "He was very lucky." 

I don't want to hear it from him, I want to see John for myself. "Can we see him now?" I'm sure the nurse probably thinks those are the only words I know, but I don't care. 

"Certainly. He's just been moved to a room." 

"I thought you said he was okay." 

"We're going to keep him overnight because of the concussion. It's a rather nasty bump." He turns and gestures down the hall. "If you'll come this way I'll take you to his room." 

When we arrive at the door, Bailey decides to wait outside. I push the door slowly, knocking when it's about half way open. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding when John turns his head toward me and opens his eyes. "Hey." 

"Hey yourself." I make my way to the side of the bed slowly, not quite as impatient now that I can see for myself that he's still breathing. "How are you feeling?" 

"Better than I look, I'm sure. Although they say I'll be really sore tomorrow." 

He looks a little beat up, but considering the horrible things I'd been imagining, he looks pretty good to me. "You don't look too bad. Are you up for a hug?" 

"I think that would be about the best medicine I could get." 

I lean over and gently reach around his back to hug him. At the strength of his arms holding me, I feel an intense sense of relief. I revel in the feeling for a moment before pulling away and reaching for his hand. "What happened?" 

John shakes his head, then winces from the action. "I don't know. I was going down that hill about a mile from the cabin--the one with all the curves--and I stepped on the brake and nothing happened. Next thing I remember, the EMTs were pulling me out of the car." 

My mind begins to imagine the wreck in detail, and I quickly order the profiler in me to bed. "The police have been here. Your brake hoses were punctured. Three holes in each one." 

"So it wasn't an accident." It isn't a question, but I shake my head anyway. "Do you think it was Jack?" 

"I don't know. We'll deal with that tomorrow. Tonight, I want you to do what they tell you and get some rest." 

"At least I'm glad to know it wasn't my driving." 

I roll my eyes, but I'm relieved that he's still able to make jokes. "I'm just glad you're not seriously hurt." I run my hand lightly over the scratches on his face and cheeks, the slightly jagged texture feeling odd compared to the smoothness I'm used to. 

"The doctor says they shouldn't even leave scars, so my face will be back to perfect again in a couple of weeks." 

"Oh good. I'd hate to have to get rid of you just because you were flawed." 

He laughs as a nurse comes into the room. "I'm sorry, but visiting hours are ending and I need to give Mr. Grant his medication." 

"Oh, okay." I squeeze John's hand. I'm reluctant to leave, but I feel better after talking to him, and I know he needs sleep. "I'll be back in the morning. Get some rest. You know where to reach me if you need anything." 

"I think I can remember the number." I lean over and give him a light kiss on the lips, conscious of the presence of the nurse in the room. After one last look to reassure myself he really is okay, I pull my hand out of his and leave the room. 

Bailey is waiting for me. "How is he?" 

"He's going to be fine, assuming no other 'unfortunate accidents' come along." 

"I've already arranged for guards both at the door and below his window." 

I shake my head as the combination of experience and paranoia kicks all of my protective instincts into high gear, and my eyes stray briefly to the door of his room. "It won't be enough if he decides to come after John again." 

"You think it's Jack, don't you?" 

"Don't you?" I shove my hair back off my face impatiently. "Who else could it be?" 

"Well, there are other possibilities, but I'm inclined to agree with you. We'll have the car checked with a blacklight in the morning." I nod, suddenly feeling about a hundred years old. "Do you think Jack will try anything tonight?" 

"No. This was my warning. He'll give me some time to think it over before he strikes again." 

"And if you don't listen?" 

"Well, we know what he did to Tom." My statement is made in a very flat tone, but Bailey knows how those words affect me. 

"We won't let that happen." The guard from the VCTF arrives, and after a quick talk with him, Bailey takes my arm and guides me down the hall. "Come on. We can't do anything more tonight. We'll start fresh in the morning." 

*** 

I look at my watch as I ride the elevator to the second story of the firehouse. 9:30. Chloe should still be up. I want to explain what happened to John. He has practically been living at the firehouse for the last few months, ever since Angel had moved to New York, and I know Chloe will wonder where he is when he doesn't come home with me. 

I find her on the floor in the living room, playing checkers with one of the agents assigned to her. She sees me and jumps up. "Hi, Mom!" 

"Hey, sweetie." She almost knocks me over with a hug. "Ooof! You're getting too big for me." 

"I'm gonna be bigger than you someday," 

"Then I guess I'll have to sit on your lap." She laughs at that idea. "So what have you been up to?" 

"I was beating Matt at checkers." 

I glance at the agent, who looks kind of silly sprawled out on the floor in a three-piece suit. "Poor Matt. He's probably tired of losing. Why don't you say goodnight to him and go put on your pajamas and I'll come tuck you in in a minute?" 

"Okay. Where's John?" 

I sit down on the couch and face her, taking a deep breath. "He had an accident in his car this afternoon. He's okay, but the doctors wanted to keep an eye on him tonight, so he's staying at the hospital." 

"Oh." She chews her bottom lip for a second while she thinks. "Can we go see him tomorrow?" 

"We won't have to. I bet he'll be here by the time you get home from school." 

"Okay. 'Night, Matt." She waves as she runs down the hall. 

"Thanks for taking care of her, Matt. Bet you didn't realize when you graduated from the Academy that you would end up being a babysitter." 

"Hey, don't knock it. Chloe is the best assignment at the VCTF. We'd fight over who gets to take care of her if it was up to us." He has gotten up from the floor and is putting his overcoat on as we're talking. "How's John?" 

"He'll be fine. Some cuts and bruises and a bump on the head, nothing serious." 

"That's good. What happened?" 

"We don't know yet. I only got to talk to him for a minute before the nurse came in and made me leave." 

"Well, I'm glad he's okay. I'll see you in the morning." 

"Good night." I make sure the elevator is locked after he leaves, then head down the hall to my daughter's room. 

Chloe has changed into her pajamas and is in bed looking through a book when I walk in. "Did you brush your teeth, little lady?" 

"Yup. See?" She flashes me a big grin. "All clean. Now will you read me a story?" 

"I suppose." She hands me the book she has been holding. "Little Red Riding Hood, huh? Okay." I make quick work of the book, then put it beside the bed and tuck Chloe in. "Go to sleep. I'll see you in the morning." 

"Mom... John is okay, right?" 

"He'll be fine, Chlo. You can see for yourself tomorrow, okay?" Chloe nods. I turn off the lamp next to the bed, then look down at her in the glow of the night light. "I love you, baby girl." 

"I'm too old to be a baby, Mom." 

"I have news for you; when you're fifty you'll still be my baby." I laugh at the horrible face she makes. "Go to sleep." 

I leave her door open slightly and go to the kitchen. I haven't really had a chance to think about what has happened. I was too worried about John at first, then I was so relieved I didn't really consider the implications on the way home. So I make a cup of tea and sit down on the couch to think. 

I'm certain they will find some kind of message on the car with the blacklight. Jack is behind the wreck. If he can't have me, he's determined no one else will. He'd done this to warn me. He didn't intend for John to die this time, not that Jack would have been particularly upset if he had. But the meaning is clear, even without a message. If I continue my relationship with John, Jack will kill him. 

I know what John would say--he wouldn't care. He hates to back down from a fight. His stubbornness is one of his most endearing qualities; it was how he'd finally gotten me to go out with him. 

I was extremely tired at the Christmas party last year and after a couple of glasses of wine I wandered under the mistletoe Grace had put up. John was in the area, and never one to let a chance slip by, he'd leaned in to kiss me. I think he'd intended it to be a short kiss, but I surprised both of us by responding a little more enthusiastically than expected. It took some not-so-discreet throat clearing from George to bring us back to reality. John made some joke about Christmas spirit and then proceeded to pretend to kiss George as well, but I'd seen the look in his eyes in the split second after we broke the kiss and I knew better. 

It was that look that made me refuse the next day when he asked me out for New Year's Eve. I used the excuse that I refused to be a last minute substitute for some woman who'd left him without a date for a New Year's party, but looking back I know I was scared. I think John knew it too. He wouldn't take no for an answer. He had a response for every excuse I came up with. He hadn't made plans, so I wasn't a substitute. Chloe could join us. We celebrate at the firehouse for safety. 

Finally I ran out of creative excuses and even bad ones, so I said yes just to shut him up. I told myself one evening with Chloe and me and he'd run in the other direction, and I told the part of me that knew better to keep quiet. 

By the time New Year's Eve arrived, I was a bundle of nerves. John told me he had everything planned, and I wasn't supposed to do anything, but I snuck a bottle of champagne into the refrigerator anyway. I figured if nothing else I could have some to calm myself down before he arrived. 

He left work early to "finish preparing." I found out what he meant the minute I walked into the firehouse. He was already there with Chloe. They had decorated the living room with helium balloons and a Happy New Year banner, obviously Chloe's contribution, judging by the lettering. They both had noise makers and party hats, and I wasn't allowed to be in the party unless I wore a hat too. 

Chloe had chosen the menu--pizza and apple cider will hold a special place in my heart for a long time to come. We ate, played games, watched Dick Clark, and at midnight we toasted the new year with more apple cider, in champagne bottles, of course. Chloe barely made it to midnight as soon as the ball dropped and she toasted 1999, she was out like a light on the sofa. 

I started to pick her up, but John stopped me and scooped her up himself. My heart stopped at the gentle way he held her for a second before he turned and carried her down the hall. I followed, and we tucked her in together while a knot began to form in my stomach. 

When we returned to the living room, I muted the TV. The sudden silence was deafening, and it made me very uncomfortable. John went into the kitchen and came back with two glasses of champagne, one of which he handed to me. "Happy New Year," he said softly, as he clinked his glass against mine. I drank automatically, more a reaction to watching him take a drink than a need for liquid. 

He was standing too close, so I walked over to the window and looked at the banner hanging above it. "How did you manage to arrange all this?" 

"I had some help from Chloe." 

"Chloe let you into the firehouse?" She knew she wasn't supposed to let anyone in, no matter how well she knew them. 

"No, that was Angel. I'd never ask Chloe to let me in, not when it could be used against her later." 

"Sorry, I should have known." I pressed a hand against my stomach, certain that the ever-growing knot would be visible by now, but I didn't feel it. John joined me at the window, and I finished my champagne to avoid having to talk. 

"Sam..." He had that tone in his voice that translates into "Look at me," but I couldn't. 

"It was really nice of you to do all this." I stared out the window as if something would suddenly crash through it to save me from John or myself or whatever it was that seemed to have me so tense. 

"Sam..." The tone was more insistent this time. Not demanding, just insistent. I couldn't resist, I had to look. And once I did, I couldn't look away. However insistent the tone was, the look in his eyes was a thousand times more compelling. "Thank you." 

I blinked. Not something I normally notice myself doing, but I was very aware of my every movement at that point. "For what?" 

"Finally saying yes. Letting me spend New Years with you and Chloe." He sat his glass down on the window sill. 

"Oh. Um... you're welcome." He took my glass and set it down next to his. I'm not sure if the alcohol kicked in, or if it was his fingers brushing against mine as he took the glass, but I suddenly felt very lightheaded. Which is why I leaned toward him, for support, of course. But he leaned at the same time, and the next thing I knew his lips were on mine and then I didn't know anything for several moments. It was the Christmas party all over again, with a few minor differences. I couldn't blame it on alcohol, there were no spectators, and it was Earth shattering. Until then, I'd been able to fool myself that there was nothing between us but friendship. Not anymore. The truth was staring me in the face. I wanted this man. 

I felt his hands slide under my hair to cradle my head. My own hands moved to his sides and behind his back without any conscious commands from me. After what seemed like both an eternity and no time at all, John pulled back. He looked at me for a few seconds with an intensity in his eyes that scared me and excited me at the same time, then he moved a few feet away. "I'd better go." 

"Why?" 

His only answer was a smile and a sort of half-laugh. I followed him as he picked up his jacket and walked to the door. He pushed the button for the elevator then turned back to me. "Have dinner with me Monday?" 

I hesitated for about a second before agreeing. He said good night and gave me a short kiss before getting on the elevator. As he waited for the doors to close, his eyes held mine. "Happy New Year," he whispered, and then the doors closed, leaving me alone with my thoughts. 

Which is where I am now, alone with my thoughts. But the thoughts are much different this time. Instead of the excitement of falling in love, it's the torture of knowing my feelings can cost the man I love his life. 

Over the years people have asked me what it's like, knowing Jack is always watching. I usually tell them that it's not that different from being a celebrity, or even a normal person. Everyday people are watched by others everywhere they go, and around every corner there can be some evil waiting to take them away, or to harm someone they love. 

That's what I say, and sometimes I even believe it. But reality always hits me sooner or later, usually in the form of a rose, and I remember that I'm not allowed to have a life of my own. With a hug, another person becomes a name on Jack's list; with a kiss, he moves straight to the top of the list. Getting involved with a man is tantamount to signing his death warrant. And until Jack is captured, there is no way around it. 

I know I have to convince John we have to end this. What I don't know is how. 

I have two choices. I can lie to him. Tell him I don't love him, or I'm tired of him, or there is someone else. But I'm terrible liar, and even if by some miracle he believes me, then I still have to work with him, and he will know I'm lying soon enough. 

My other option is to tell him the truth. I know he won't want to hear it, but I have to make him see somehow that we have no other choice. I have no other choice. I can't be responsible for his death. 

My mind made up, I take my cup into the kitchen, then turn all the lights out on my way to bed. I have some trouble getting to sleep. It's funny how when you start sharing a bed with someone you have trouble sleeping because there's not enough space, then when you sleep alone again you can't sleep because there's too much space. That leads to thoughts of the first few days following Tom's death, thoughts I quickly steer myself away from. 

I finally fall into an uneasy sleep, only to be disturbed by the phone several hours later. It's Bailey, and he's downstairs. I hurry to the elevator and let him in, wondering briefly what the guards must be thinking. Bailey won't tell me anything in the elevator. He waits until we are back in the living room and seated on the couch. 

"Sam... John's dead." 

I know I can't have heard him right. "What?" 

"Someone slipped him a drug that killed him. We think his pills were switched." 

"No, you're wrong. I saw the nurse come in with the pills. I saw her hand them to him. They couldn't have been dangerous, I would have noticed." 

"Sam, it's the only way it could have happened. No one else went into the room. There were no needle marks. Whatever killed him had to be in the pills." 

What he'd been telling me finally clicks in my brain. John is dead. It doesn't matter how it happened, and I don't need to investigate to know who did it. I start to shake, and Bailey tries to hold me, but I break free and run to my room. I curl up into a ball on my bed and pull the covers close around me, but it doesn't stop the shaking. I should be crying. I want to cry, but no tears will come. Thoughts, however, come in abundance. How do I do this again? How do I deal with the loss? How do I tell Chloe? When Tom died, I barely made it. Only thoughts of Chloe pulled me through. Can I put that much pressure on her again? 

After a while, Bailey knocks on the door and asks to come in. I hesitate, then get up and open the door. I'm still shaking as I stand there looking at him for a long moment, then I can feel myself start to crumble and tears begin to flow. I'm helpless. Bailey picks me up and carries me to the couch, where he holds me on his lap like a lost child while I cry for what seems like forever. 

The next day, Bailey goes with me to the funeral home. The second we walk into the building a smell assaults my senses and makes me nauseous. As we turn the corner and enter the chapel, I realize what the smell is. There are easily two hundred roses in various arrangements surrounding the casket. I hear a phone ringing, and I think I've finally lost my mind, because I reach for my cell phone and try to answer it, but it keeps ringing. 

That is when I wake up and realize the phone by my bed has pulled me out of my nightmare. I fumble for the receiver in the dark. "Hello?" 

"Sam?" Silent tears begin to trail down my cheeks at the sound of John's voice. Until then I wasn't really sure that I had only been dreaming. "Sam? Are you there?" 

I sniff and force myself to sound as normal as possible. "Yeah, I'm here. What time is it?" 

"It's a little after three. They just woke me for that two-hour concussion check thing, and I couldn't get back to sleep." He pauses, and I bask in the sound of his breathing over the phone line. "I missed you. And I'm worried about you." 

"Worried about me? You're the one in the hospital." 

"Yeah, but I'm fine." 

Sure, nothing but a totalled car in a botched murder attempt. No big deal. "So am I." 

"You're sure?" 

"Yes." I refuse to even hint at the nightmares, or any doubts I'm having. "Why?" 

"I just had this feeling you might be beating yourself up over what happened." The man is too perceptive. "So I thought I'd call and remind you that Jack is the only one responsible for this. But if you're fine, then I won't mention it." 

I have to smile. "I'm glad you called." 

"Me too." I hear a noise in the background on John's end of the phone, followed by muted voices. After a moment of silence, John speaks again. "Nurse Nazi just informed me that if I don't get off the phone she's recommending they keep me another night, so I'd better go." 

"Okay. Let me know when they're releasing you and I'll pick you up." 

"Will do. Sam... I love you." 

The tears that had dried start again. "I love you too. Night." 

After I hang up the phone, I lay in bed for a long time, thinking. There is no way I can convince John to leave me. Even if I make him mad or lie to him, he'll be back when he realizes what I'm doing, and it won't take him long. And the truth will only make him fight harder to stay. I only have one option to ensure his safety. Wiping the tears off my cheeks, I sit up and turn on the light, then reach for the paper in the drawer by the bed. 

*** 

The next morning I arrived at my desk to find a message from forensics confirming the message on John's wrecked car. Two words: "For Samantha." I don't even try to get something out of it. No matter what he says, the message is always the same in the end. Jack considers me his personal property and he isn't willing to share. 

I'm sitting in my office staring off into space when John calls to say he's being released. I pick him up and take him back to the firehouse and proceed to mother him the rest of the day. When Chloe comes home from school she gives him her undivided attention for hours. 

By the time Chloe goes to bed John is enjoying all the fuss. We tuck her in as usual then head back to the living room. John sits down on the couch and pulls me down with him. He groans slightly as I land against his side. 

"How are you feeling?" 

"Fine, just a little sore." 

"Did you take the pain medication they gave you?" 

"No. It's in the bedroom; I'll take it later." 

"Come on." I stand up and wait for him to join me, then we head down the hall. 

"What are you gonna do, force me to take it?" 

"I can be very persuasive." 

He laughs softly as we enter the bedroom. As soon as he shut the door behind him he reaches for me. "Okay," he says, as his hands slide around my waist and begin tugging at my shirt. "Convince me." One kiss turns into two, clothing disappears, and soon we both forget all about the medicine. 

I think on some level I knew the moment I met John that making love with him would be incredible. It's part of what scared me about him. There is an energy between us that would occasionally hit me with just a glance from him, and a simple touch can send shivers through my whole body. 

Not that I was at all prepared for just how good it turned out to be. I had forgotten what it was like to be so in tune with a man that it really did feel like you were one person. And that the feeling didn't go away after the first time. If anything, it gets better. 

I don't want to forget that feeling ever again, so tonight I force myself to be aware of every sensation, every touch, every sound. I try to commit it to my memory with the clarity of a video recorder--moments to call up and replay in my mind in the future. 

I'm sure John notices the difference in me, but he probably thinks it is due to almost losing him. He's half right. 

I don't sleep the whole night. I lay there, safe in his arms, and savor the feeling. He wakes once to take his medicine, the soreness from the accident having finally gotten the best of him, and we end up making love again before the medicine kicks in and he falls into a heavy sleep. 

At six the first rays of the sun are beginning to lighten the sky, and I know I have run out of time. I slide carefully from the bed and dress in the dark, then pull the letter I wrote the night before out of my purse and prop it against the lamp on the bedside table. All that is left is to get Chloe and go, but I hesitate, kneeling down beside the bed. I can just make out John's features in the dim light and I want to memorize all of them. His face, with its strong jaw, including a muscle that always goes crazy when something upsets him. Shoulders big enough to carry the world and human enough to crash under the weight. Arms that can shut out the whole world and make everything seem safe, and hands that can send me to Heaven with a casual touch, and beyond with an intentional one. 

I force myself to go to Chloe's room, hoping my tears will stay quiet until we are out of the house, pick up my daughter, and sneak out. I carry her to the rental car I have waiting a block away, check to make sure the things I packed are still in the trunk, buckle Chloe in the passenger seat and drive off. A clean getaway. So why does it feel like I've left something behind that I need for survival? 

We drive north for a few hours. I don't want to think, but my mind keeps picturing John waking up and finding me gone. I imagine his disbelief as he reads the letter that explains why I have to go. I have no right to risk his life for my own happiness. I try to concentrate on the beauty of the fall leaves around me, but his face keeps appearing before me instead. 

Somewhere in southern Virginia we stop for lunch. Chloe has been subdued ever since she woke up. She seems to sense my mood and doesn't ask me any questions, but I know she's confused. I'm just too tired to come up with the answers she needs. And I'm too afraid of what I might find if I start probing for those answers. 

We reach the outskirts of Washington by dinner time. My lack of sleep over the past two days is catching up with me, and I don't think it's a good idea to keep driving, so I check us into a hotel in the Virginia suburbs. Chloe eats her dinner and takes a bath a little too obediently. When I'm tucking her into one of the two double beds in our room, she finally asks the question I know has been on her mind all day. "Mom, where are we going?" 

"I don't know yet, sweetie." 

"Why isn't John coming with us?" 

I take a deep breath to stall for time. "He can't. We have to be by ourselves for a while." 

"I don't want to. I want to see John." 

Me too. "Chloe, honey, don't start. Not tonight." 

"Why?" 

"Because it's what we have to do. Sometimes you have to do things you don't like, and you don't have a choice." 

"Why?" 

"Because." 

"Why?" 

"Chloe, go to sleep." I turn out the light and head for the bathroom, hoping to discourage her from further talk. It works for about thirty seconds. 

"Mom." 

"Yes, Chloe?" 

"Don't you love John anymore?" 

Her voice sounds very small and very confused. I close my eyes and swallow, trying to keep my tears at bay as I come back to sit next to her. "It's not that easy, honey. Sometimes love isn't enough. There are other things that get in the way." 

"I don't understand." 

"I know." I kiss her forehead, knowing I have to get out of the room before I lose it. "Someday you will. But not tonight. Go to sleep, okay?" 

I hurry to the bathroom, turn on the water and make it into the shower just as I lose the battle against my tears. I sit in the tub, the water pouring over me, masking my tears and cry silently for what seems like years. In reality, it's something like half an hour before I finally get control. I still feel like crying, but I'm able to keep the tears inside. 

Chloe is silent when I come back out into the bedroom. I crawl into bed without turning out the light and lay there for a long time. I'm almost asleep when a noise wakes me. I sit up and realize Chloe is crying. Straining to keep my own feelings in check, I climb out of my bed and get into hers. 

"I'm sorry, Mom, I know you wanted me to be strong." 

"Oh, Chloe, tears aren't weak." They're just painful. I hold her, a few tears trailing down my own cheeks. "Sometimes, they're the sign you're doing something incredibly strong." 

After a few minutes, she calms down. "Maybe if we turn on the radio I can sleep." 

"Okay." I feel around on the table for the clock radio. If nothing else, it will be a distraction from the thoughts going around in my mind. The radio is set on a light music station, and I lay there listening long after Chloe goes to sleep, exhausted, but unable to surrender to unconsciousness. My mind wanders to a million different places trying to avoid thoughts of what I'm doing, until a song catches my attention. 

It's daybreak, and you are asleep I can hear you breathe now, your breath is deep But before I go, I look at you one last time I can hear a heartbeat, is it yours, or is it mine? I look at your lips, I know how soft they can be Did they know what they wanted the times they kissed me 

I think back to when I left John that morning, how I studied him before I ran away, and I curse my abilities, because I'm able to recall everything so vividly. 

And your hands, that I held in mine Now they're all posed and on the pillow Will they ever miss me, sometime? 

I picture him sitting at the firehouse, staring out the window and wondering where we are and I start to cry again. 

I'll remember you You will be there in my heart I'll remember you And that is all that I can do But I'll remember 

I climb out of the bed, taking great care not to wake Chloe, but my mind won't let me leave the room. I can't leave the song; I have to listen. I end up crawling into a corner, my knees tight up against my chest. 

Your eyes, that always make me shiver Now they are closed, they just sometimes twitch a little And your body, I could hold for an hour It sent me to heaven with its speed and power 

I wonder if he will sleep. If he *can* sleep. I remember the way he looked this morning. Peaceful. He's been hurt so much in his life; I hope that this one doesn't measure up to the pain inflicted by his parents. 

I'll remember you You will be there in my heart I'll remember you And that is all that I can do But I'll remember 

The song ends, and a dam inside of me bursts. I cry so hard I shake, but I'm careful not to make enough noise to wake Chloe. I don't want to remember John. I want to be able to look up and see him. I want to look out my window at the VCTF and see the top of his head bent over his desk. I want to look next to me on the couch at home and see him there where I can reach out and touch him. I want to feel his arms protecting me each night, to be able to feel his presence all around me, even if he isn't touching me. Instead I'm in a cold hotel room, dragging my daughter away from the first real family life she can remember. Dragging myself away from my heart. 

It occurs to me then that perhaps Jack's biggest victory wouldn't be in taking my happiness from me, but in making me run from it, throwing it away as if it were evil. The job John and I both have is more likely to take one of us away than Jack is. I trust John to take care of himself, as well as Chloe and me if it comes down to it. The only person I haven't trusted is myself. I couldn't be responsible for his death, I couldn't let him put himself in danger. All the excuses I have given myself suddenly seems very suspicious. What I couldn't do was put myself in a position to lose so much again, so I gave it away before it was ripped from me. 

I wipe my eyes on my sleeve and reach for the phone on the table, then change my mind. A phone call would be cruel. Especially if I wake up in the morning and decide I'm wrong. But that won't happen. I'm not strong enough to keep running from the one thing I want more than anything. I just hope I'm strong enough to run to it when the time comes. My decision made, I crawl back into bed with my daughter and hold her close to me as I drift into a dreamless sleep. 

The next morning we check out and drive the rental car straight to the airport, where we take the first flight to Atlanta. I spend the whole trip keeping a suddenly happy Chloe occupied and wondering what I'll say when I see John. I still have no clue when we touch down. We pick up another car, and I pray I won't get a speeding ticket going back to the firehouse. I suppose I should have thought to look for him at work, but somehow I know I'll find him at home. Home. Few words have ever scared me and thrilled me so much at the same time. It remains to be seen what that word will mean to me in a matter of minutes. 

When I pull up at the firehouse, I sit in the car for a moment, gathering my strength. 

"Aren't we going in, Mom?" She can't wait to see John, but then she can be much more certain of her reception. As for me, well, it's easy to be convinced in the middle of the night that you can do anything, actually doing it in the bright light of day is a little harder. 

"Yeah, we're going in." Maybe I should ask her to cover me. "Chlo, I know you want to see John, but can you do me a favor? Can you wait downstairs with the agents for a few minutes first?" 

She looks at me for a second, then, in one of those brief flashes of maturity you sometimes see in children, she seems to understand. "Sure." 

I leave her with the agents. I know they will be anxious to call Bailey, and I can only imagine the tongue lashing they received for letting me leave undetected the day before. At least I discovered that little trick to get in and out before someone else did. 

The elevator ride to the second floor loft is much too short. I'm still not prepared. I only hope I know what to say when I see him. I look around as I step into the room and find him staring out the window. I walk over to the couch and drop my purse, but he doesn't turn around. After a moment I join him at the window, standing a few feet behind him, just on the other side of some invisible barrier that I can feel, but can't see. "Hi." 

He doesn't turn around. I can see part of his profile, and the muscle in his jaw is doing some serious aerobics. I can't figure out what to do with my hands. I try putting them in my pockets, behind my back, by my sides, but nothing works. Finally I cross my arms and practically hug myself. Through all of this John stands, staring out the window, not moving. 

I take a deep breath. "I must have practiced a hundred different speeches since last night, but I still don't know what to say." 

Finally he moves. He looks down at his hands. "Why'd you come back?" The bitterness in his voice makes me jump. 

"John... I'm sorry I left like that. No, not just like that. I'm sorry I left at all. I was scared--" 

"I know why you left." He holds up his hand, and I see he's holding my goodbye letter. "Why'd you come back?" 

"You don't know the real reason I left. I said a lot of things in that letter, but I was wrong. I--" 

He whips around to face me, cutting me off in mid-sentence. "I didn't ask you why you left. *Why did you come back?*" 

I flinch. I didn't know what to expect, but I didn't expect this. "I... uh..." 

He sighs and turns away again. "If you don't know why you came back, then maybe *I* should leave." 

Fear grips my heart at the thought of either of us walking away. "I came back because I love you." He's still facing the window, but I can tell he's listening, and he doesn't interrupt now that I'm answering his question. "Because I trust you. Because I know that I don't have the right to make decisions for you." Encouraged by his full attention and some slight change in his stance, I close the gap between the two of us and put my hand on his shoulder. "Because no matter how hard it is to stay here knowing you could be taken away from me, it's harder to run." I hope he knows how much that last sentence cost me. 

He takes a deep breath, turns around and puts his arms around me. He's practically crushing me, but I don't care. "I should strangle you. But I've learned over the last thirty-six hours how difficult it is to live without you, so I won't." 

As his words sink in and I realize that everything might work out, I begin to cry. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." 

"Shhh. It'll be okay." He holds me until I calm down and stop crying. Then he pulls back and looks at me for a long moment before kissing me half senseless. Just when I'm sufficiently dazed he stops and looks around. "Where's Chloe?" 

"Downstairs." I straighten my shirt. "I should go get her. She was anxious to get back. She was rather mad at me for leaving." 

"Good. Remind me to thank her. At least one of you has some sense." 

I smile, even though I know there is a grain of truth in his teasing. It will take time for him to completely get over my defection, but as we go to get Chloe, he takes my hand, and I know that we'll get through it together, and in the end, that is all that matters. 


End file.
